


Frigga’s Day

by Aenaria



Series: Interesting Times [4]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 2014 timeline is a thing here and I'm going to embrace it, And Other Shenanigans, F/M, Families of Choice, Gen, Kidfic, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, SO MUCH FLUFF, Series, ShieldShock - Freeform, Unrepentant Fluff, Wedding Fluff, inspired by 'The Incredibles'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-06-28 11:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19811794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenaria/pseuds/Aenaria
Summary: Scenes from a wedding day, 2022.  An Incrediblesverse story, guest starring some familiar faces who have gathered to celebrate the wedding of Darcy Lewis and Steve Rogers (or whatever alias he’s using now).





	1. Wedding Morning

**Author's Note:**

> All hail everything, this story is finally ready to be loosed upon the world, a good year and a half after I started it. The original, sort of silly idea ended up blooming into something a bit different, but still good. Technically the story is complete, but since I’m impatient, I’m posting the first chapter now while I work on editing up the next four.
> 
> I’ll let everyone know in advance, you’re going to see some things in here that will contradict things I’ve said in other stories in this series. It’s nothing bad, at least in my eyes. Honestly, my hope is that it makes the series better. I feel rather happy with this little addition to the canon of this series, to be frank, and I hope that you enjoy this addition as well. I’ll talk more about it in the closing notes of the story, because it involves some talk about End Game, and I don’t want to be responsible for spoiling people (although now that I’m finally ready to post this story we’re well past the point of spoilers for the movie). 
> 
> While there aren’t any true plot spoilers from End Game within the bulk of the story (End Game has no place in my happy superhero family universe), there are definitely some parts that took inspiration from the movie and ran with it for the story.
> 
> Thanks to AmazonX, DizzyRedhead, Meri, and JaneeFoster for taking an advance look at this story and making sure I didn’t muck things up too badly. 
> 
> Fluff, full speed ahead.

‘What do you see when you turn out the lights?

I can’t tell you but I know it’s mine’

Darcy would be a liar if she’d said she’d never imagined how her wedding day was supposed to be, when she was a kid. She had her head in the clouds all the time, of course the fantasy of what it would be like to get married had floated through there a few times. The outfit she would wear, the grand entrance she would make, all of the frothy, floaty dresses she’d stick her bridesmaids in...

(It was far easier to fall into fantasyland than listen to the kids who made fun of her thick glasses, gave her shit because there was that gap in her teeth that had never bothered her until others laughed at it, or when they called her a freak because her dad had walked out on them when she was a baby and somehow, everyone knew about it.)

Reality, however, has turned out to be much, much different than those fantasies.

When Darcy Lewis wakes up on her wedding day, the early summer sun slanting its way over the foot of the guest bed at her parents’ place in Providence, Rhode Island, the first thing she does is look over at the cot where her son is supposed to be, to see if he’s still asleep like they’d left him the night before.

Nope, no dice. Which isn’t exactly surprising, because Joey has turned into a little escape artist the more his toddler years go on and has been known to leave his bed more than once in the middle of the night. This is exactly why they’ve had to start locking the guest room door after they go to sleep at night. Just in case. Not like her parents’ house is dangerous, at all, but she doesn’t want her kid wrecking all of their stuff when they’re not looking.

Next, Darcy’s eyes flick over to the other side of the bed, and all her questions are easily answered. Steve’s still sound asleep, flat on his back, mouth open, and one hand resting loosely on his bare chest. His other hand is reaching awkwardly over his head, gripping onto Joey’s calf, because somehow, catlike, Joey’s draped himself over Steve’s pillow, laying half on the cushion and half on his dad’s head, deeply and profoundly asleep also. There’s even a little puddle of drool soaking the pillow below him.

Darcy sinks her teeth into her lower lip, fighting back the urge to laugh so very hard, and instead reaches for her phone because this one was too good not to immortalize for posterity. 

A few minutes later she’s somewhat dressed and stumbling down the stairs, desperately hoping that someone was kind enough to get the coffee started because adulting is hard without it, and today is a day where being a proper adult is something that was probably needed. Downstairs the house is empty, her parents off doing god knows what, but there’s a coffee smell permeating the bright and shiny kitchen that overlooks the backyard and a fresh pot ready and waiting on the countertop. She helps herself to a cup, and then sits down at the table, her hands wrapped around the mug and letting the warmth soak into her skin. As warm as it is outside, she still likes the way the smoothness of that heat feels on her hands.

“I’m getting married today,” Darcy mumbles into her mug. “What the hell am I doing?”

No immediate answer comes to her question, though really, she wasn’t expecting one. It’s more of a metaphorical question anyway, because she doesn’t doubt her choices. She’s already decided that the best thing that gives her the life that she wants is currently sleeping in the guest bedroom upstairs. The logistical choices...aw, hell, even those barely required an extra thought. Her father was going to be conducting the ceremony, Bucky was going to be taking pictures, and her mother was going to be watching Joey (technically. Darcy would bet good money that their little ring bearer would end up spending the entire ceremony being passed back and forth between she and Steve, and Sam would end up holding on to the rings until it was time). Simple and sweet, with no reason to worry.

So why does she still feel like she’s about to jump out of her skin?

Maybe, just like any good performance, it’s stage fright, the same way she’d nearly puked her guts up before she’d presented her Master’s thesis. Instead, she needs to proclaim her love for her partner in front of an audience. A simple task, done and dusted in fifteen minutes or less.

Right?

Ugh.

There’s a knock on the white painted door that overlooks the back porch and the garden. It’s not a surprise; ever since her parents had moved in there they’d always encouraged people to enter through the kitchen instead of the formal front door. The kitchen is the heart of their house, after all, especially with a mother who’d been in the culinary and restaurant business longer than Darcy had been alive. She looks up from her coffee mug and spies Jane at the window, gesturing awkwardly for Darcy to open the door.

With a shake of her head and a fond smile, she lets Jane inside, watching as she dumps bags full of various and sundry breakfast treats on the table. “How many people are we expecting to feed again?” she asks. “Because I’m pretty sure I can count the wedding guests in under ten fingers.” The small guest list was by design, of course. Steve had invited Sam, Bucky, T’challa and Shuri, even though they most likely had other royal obligations on their plate for the day, if she was understanding their e-mails correctly. Darcy’s guest list consisted of Jane, who’d pretty much clocked the truth about Steve the first moment she’d laid eyes on ‘Steven Kirby’, and her parents who, while they’ve never said anything outright about who her baby daddy may have resembled, weren’t stupid people. Even if they had sussed out the truth, they certainly hadn’t said anything to her about it. Ignorance is a bit of a kindness here, Darcy suspects.

“This day is supposed to be as easy and as fun as possible, right?” Jane fishes a bagel out of a paper sack and grabs a container of cream cheese from another. “So, let me handle breakfast.” She shoves the food straight into Darcy’s hands. “Sit, and eat.”

“You’re not the boss of me anymore.” Still, she sits, and eats. 

The spread that comes out of Jane’s bags is kind of wondrous, bagels and pastries and jams and cheeses - more than enough to feed the hungry mouths that will be descending on the house today. “Is anyone else from your family coming?” Jane asks, swallowing a mouthful of cheese danish.

“Nope.”

“Seriously?”

Darcy shrugs. “It’s not really a big deal. Grandma was the black sheep of her family because she left the Orthodox tradition and Mom was an only child. My dad - Michael dad and not my deadbeat biological one - his kids took his first wife’s side in the divorce, so they don’t really want anything to do with me and Mom either. Grandma’s too frail to make the trip up from Boca, so Mom’s going to Facetime her the whole thing. You may be called on to hold the camera at points, just so you know. All of the important people will be here, and that’s what matters.”

There’s also the unspoken statement that the more people who meet Steve up close and personal in such an intimate setting, the more likely someone will post something stupid online and their whole world will be forced into changing before they’re ready for it. It’s been over six years since he was declared ‘dead’, which feels way too soon in Darcy’s mind for them to be so cavalier with his secret identity.

“Besides,” she continues, pushing the sudden, intrusive thoughts out of the way, “found families are equally as important as biological ones, and I’d rather you be here than any one of those assholes.”

“You kiss your baby with that mouth?”

“Go fuck yourself, Janey.”

“Love you too.” She blows Darcy an air kiss.

Still, they’re smiling, wide and amused, and it allows that last lingering bit of tension inside Darcy to loosen up, leaving only good things behind.

Off in the main hallway of the house, the sound of tiny feet stumbling down the stairs echoes against the wood. Jane raises her eyebrows at Darcy, who just groans and lifts her eyes to the ceiling. A few seconds later Joey comes toddling into the kitchen, hair sticking up in tufts and rubbing at his half-closed eyes. “Good morning, sweetheart,” Darcy says, fighting back the amusement at her sleepy boy.

Joey just mumbles something unintelligible and walks straight over to Jane, his arms stretching up to her. “Up please, Auntie Jane,” he asks.

The unspoken conversation that flows between the two women, going something like ‘You sure you didn’t plan this,’ on Jane’s part and ‘ROTFLMAO’ on Darcy’s, passes in a mere second. Then Jane just shakes her head and bends down to pull Joey into her lap. Once comfortably ensconced there, Joey curls in on himself, looking like he’s about to drift off to sleep once more.

Darcy leans forward, putting a hand on Joey’s sleep warm leg. “Don’t you want to go back to sleep upstairs?”

Joey shakes his head, burrowing further into Jane. “No. Daddy’s snoring too loud.”

The look Jane gives her is suitably impressed, while yet again Darcy fights hard not to let her kid see her laughing her fool head off at his unexpected antics. “And that’s the thing with kids,” Darcy sighs. “Nothing is sacred and nothing is secret.”

“You’ve got a fun conversation ahead of you about Daddy’s former job title, then.”

“Which I am hoping I can put off for many, many years,” Darcy groans. “I really don’t want to think about it.”

Jane’s face is sympathetic - it really is one of those conversations that could only happen in this strange world they’ve found themselves in. “Until that time,” she says, cuddling Joey close, “we’ll make sure he doesn’t have to worry about absolutely anything.”

“Damn straight.”

Heavy footsteps pound over the back porch, quickly followed by whispered, brusque voices that make Darcy and Jane share an eyeroll. “They should be too old for this shit,” Darcy mutters as she gets to her feet She yanks open the door to find Bucky and Sam standing on the back porch, holding garment bags and arguing in hissed, low voices about something so inane it’s not even worth the brain power to try and figure it out. “Really?”

The two men at least try to look abashed at her admonishment, but it’s hard to hide the looks of impending mischief on their faces. “Is Steve awake yet?” Sam asks.

“Do I want to know what you’re planning?”

“Probably not.”

Darcy just sighs and holds the door open so the two men can shuffle inside. “Don’t worry,” Sam says, just as he drapes his garment bag over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “We’ll take care of getting him out of bed for you.”

“Just don’t leave any bruises where people can see them - there will be pictures taken later,” she warns.

Bucky tosses off a casual salute of acknowledgement at Darcy as they leave the room, carrying another bag that she’s only just noticing now.

When the mock outraged howl from upstairs is heard all around the house, Darcy doesn’t bother to hold back the laughter anymore. It’s not the life she’d envisioned herself having, but it’s exactly the life she wants.


	2. Carry the magic in your skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we witness some traditional and decidedly non-traditional wedding ceremony preparations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm kind of blown away with how much you've liked the first part of this story. Seriously. I'll respond to the comments individually in a bit, but in the meantime, just know that I love each and every one of you. This chapter is a bit shorter, and a little bit more of a filler, but as what happens here is immensely important to Darcy, I thought I'd give it its own space to shine. I especially want to shout out DizzyRedhead here, who helped me in this chapter and the final one with some details about the runes I may not have caught.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and if you have any questions, you know where to find me. ;)

‘Something old

something new 

something borrowed

something blue’

  
  


As the day gets later and they get closer to the time the ceremony is ostensibly supposed to start, Darcy’s mom makes the statement that it’s time for them to get ready and that the bride and groom shouldn’t see each other until the ceremony.

“I think it’s a little late for that one, Ma,” Darcy interjects. She waves her arms expansively at where Joey is propped up on Steve’s lap, eyes glued to the tablet in front of him blaring some cartoon to keep him calm and settled for the moment.

“At least give me this one traditional thing,” her mother fires back. She rushes into another room then, muttering something about flowers and leaving no room for Darcy to get another word in the conversation.

Her hands fall to her sides and she shakes her head, staring at the motley crew of her little found family spread around the living room. “You heard the woman. Let’s do this thing.”

Darcy’s wedding dress is decidedly non-traditional. It’s simple but colorful, a deep greenish-blue silk wrap dress with magenta trim, and a sheer floral and crochet duster in case her arms get cold at any point during the night, despite the summer heat during the day. But mostly, she just likes the flower print, something about them feeling youthful and hopeful and all the good things she wants to take with her on this day. She likes the whole outfit, really, which is what matters. Sunday best doesn’t have to mean looking like a giant glittery marshmallow, Darcy has come to realize, after looking through one too many wedding magazines and getting frustrated at the overabundance of sparkle, tulle, and crispy lace in there. It’s well and good for some brides, but not for her. She doesn’t need that type of attention at all.

The guest room is positively bustling, what with Jane trying to finish pinning her hair up while fielding text messages from where the men are getting ready, and her mother yelling out the back window at her father and Bucky to get the chuppah set up in exactly the right place in the backyard, right in front of the rose bushes for the best pictures.

And suddenly it’s like she can’t breathe, her breath catching tight in her chest, everything crushing in around her. It’s not a panic attack, but ugh, her skin is crawling like it’s about to split. “Bathroom break,” she mutters, spinning on her heels and all but running for the en suite. 

Darcy slams the door behind her and hunches over the sink, shuddering. Her hands convulse on the porcelain, and the slick white surface lights up with that golden energy that pours out of her.

Yeah, she should have remembered by now that stress often causes unexpected outbursts of the energy. Thor had warned her about it, back when they’d first started trying to figure out what had happened to her when she’d been briefly beamed through those portals to cause this strange, alien energy to take up residency inside of her (if it hadn’t just been there all along and was only activated at that moment, which is an even scarier thought that she never likes to focus on). “Magic is run by emotion, my mother had always said,” she remembers Thor telling her, oh so long ago. “And while you don’t want to control your emotions entirely, some awareness of them and how to handle them will help you channel the power into something helpful and healing rather than destructive.”

‘Put it towards the positive,’ she thinks, running the words over and over in her head. She doesn’t have her books with her, the ones Thor had taken from his mother’s collection and passed along to her to enhance her studies of the energy and how to channel it. But what she does have are some photographs of her handwritten runes on her phone. Practice sketches she’d made and recorded to try and improve her own magic and control and calligraphic skills. She’s not even sure if they’re actually Asgardian or something from somewhere in the northern realms of Earth, but it’s the intent that matters, right?

Love and happiness and partnership and compromise and respect, all good things that she wants this little family of theirs to carry forward with them into the future.

She’s left her makeup bag next to the sink, and Darcy knows there’s a liquid eyeliner pen in there, the perfect medium to translate the words from an idea into reality. A few quick tugs and she’s got her dress untied, the silk pieces hanging limply down at her sides and framing the fancy undergarments she’d treated herself to for the big day. Her body’s obviously changed since college, droopier in places with a few more stretch marks thanks to Joey, but there are no regrets. She’s earned her tiger stripes, dammit. And her body is stronger than it ever was, so the payoff is worth it.

She gives her pen a shake, then leans forward toward the mirror for the best angle possible. Oh so carefully, she writes the runes onto her skin, feeling the energy flow along the lines and set them alight. The small motions calm her down, letting her feel like she’s settled in her skin once more. The runes twinkle gold at her for a moment, then calm back down to inky blackness once more. It’s also a little note to herself, she thinks, even if only she, Jane, and Steve are the only ones there who knew exactly what she’d gone through, that thing of great importance that she carries around inside of her all the time.

In a fit of whimsy, she takes the eyeliner pen and carefully and precisely writes the Hebrew letters of Joey’s name around the base of her ring finger, right where her wedding ring will soon sit in only a few short moments. Their son is just as much a part of this day as the rest of them, and she wants to memorialize that. The words are a little messily done, thanks to the position and all of the fine lines of her skin, but Darcy’s confident in her work. Around her middle finger goes Steve’s name in Hebrew as well. Realistically, she knows that Steven isn’t a traditionally Hebrew name, but she’d found a comparable version on a website when she was researching baby names and she’d always liked the look of the letters. It feels more like it belongs to her and her soul that way, even though she’s pretty sure the last time she went to Temple was for a funeral years back.

With a slightly different glitter, this one more of a warm blue instead of a gold, the letters settle into her skin, almost becoming new types of rings to add to her collection. ‘I contain multitudes,’ she thinks. It’s what happens when the universe passes through you instead of you passing through the universe, unaware and untouched of the power and life all around you.

“Darce, are you almost done?” her mother calls through the bathroom door. “We still have to do your hair and makeup!”

And with that, she crashes right back down to Earth once more. “Coming!” she yells back as she fumbles to wrap her dress back around her like it’s the armor of the day.

**********

After he slips her new wedding ring on her finger, burnished silver with some delicate etchings around the thick band, Steve is sure to pick up Darcy’s hand and press a kiss directly onto her fingers, right on top of where their son’s name lay marked on her skin.

The little spark of magic that goes through them is unnoticed by everyone but Steve, going by the squeeze he gives her hands and the sudden soft smile that spreads across his face.


	3. The Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-wedding shenanigans, with some unexpected faces making themselves known.
> 
> (a.k.a. In which the author decides to contradict years of her own pre-established in-universe canon because I’m the writer and I do what I want…)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this is where I change a few things and totally contradict myself. You’ll get more details in the next chapter and in the end notes of the story, but I promise this is all for the best. If you want to yell at me, feel free to do so in the comments...but I really, desperately hope that you’ll like this new idea as much as I do. Because I think it’s going to make this universe a much more wonderful place.

_ ‘I get by with a little help from my friends’ _

“Another drink for the bride?”

Darcy lazily reaches out a hand, and grins as the martini glass is placed into it. “Why thank you, my good sir,” she replies to Sam as he sits down in the chair next to her with his own drink. “Cheers.” She clinks her glass against his, and sips at the vodka delicately. “How much longer do we have the room for?” Because really, she doesn’t feel like moving just yet. It’s been a good...a great day, despite all of her earlier worries and anxiety, and she wants to sit back and just revel in the feelings for the moment. 

The simple wedding had gone off mostly without a hitch, with the license picked up at the Providence City Hall a couple of days before, her mother escorting her through the backyard to arrive at the makeshift chuppah they’d crafted from a few garden trellises, her stepdad conducting the ceremony in the backyard for all of the seven guests in attendance (one of which was Joey, who had spent the entire ceremony propped on Steve’s hip, giggling wildly as Steve had fumbled her ring out of his pants pocket at one point) as a fresh summer breeze had whipped sunlight and green leaves all around them. Then her mother had pulled some strings with one of her favorite restaurants in the city and gotten them the use of a private room in the back of the restaurant for a post-wedding celebration for the small crew assembled. It was small, and intimate, and exactly what Darcy wanted on her wedding day.

Is it the wedding she had dreamed of as a child? Well, no. Childhood Darcy had delusions of grandeur, big white frothy dresses in grand halls lined with candles and the air heavy with the scent of stylish cut flowers scattered everywhere. But, to be fair, she hadn’t ever envisioned her life turning out like it had thus far. Taking that internship with Jane Foster had been one of the best things to happen to her, even if at points in their relationship it didn’t exactly feel like it. Knowing Jane had led to a backyard wedding in a flower crown and a lacy sundress, marrying the best person she’d ever known in her entire life, while carrying their son in her arms instead of a bouquet.

Best day ever, if Darcy does say so herself. 

“The bar closes at one a.m.,” Sam says, leaning back in his chair with his long legs stretching out in front of him. “We’ve got the go-ahead to be here until then.” His eyes look around the private dining room in question, a cozy space with rustic looking furnishings, exposed brick walls, old fashioned edison bulbs strung up near the ceiling, and some heavy curtains that close it off from the rest of the world...or at least the other part of the restaurant, for the night. It’s private and low key and absolutely perfect.

Darcy nods thoughtfully, and then turns to look at Jane on her other side, slouched back in her chair with a lazy grin on her face. “You hear that, Jane? No bailing out early to go do science tonight,” she calls out. 

“Meh,” Jane fires back. “Science is overrated. These drinks are really good, though,” she says. Her eyes roll downward, giving the glass in her hand a fond look. 

“This is gonna be a fun taxi ride back to the hotel,” Darcy mutters. “Hey, where’s Steve gone?”

The curtain that divides the private room from the main restaurant wiggles a bit, then shifts to the side to reveal Bucky, shirtsleeves rolled up, tie undone and draped around his neck, and carrying a full bottle of wine in each hand. “Steve’s helping your parents and Joey get settled in the cab,” he replies. The wine is carefully placed in the center of the table, followed by Bucky sitting down right across from her. “He’ll be along as soon as he finishes going through the list for the care and feeding of the kid for the next few days.”

Darcy rolls her eyes, obviously enough that a general snicker arises from around the table. “Not like they haven’t baby-sat for us before, numerous times.”

But Jane apparently isn’t totally spacey yet, because she sounds entirely serious when she speaks again. “How is your mom doing, by the way?”

Darcy exhales roughly, brings her drink to her lips before answering. “Good days and bad days, you know? The new medication’s really helping, but still. Borrowed time with a chronic illness,” she finishes with a shrug. “Today’s a very good day though, and we’re going to focus on that.”

“Damn straight.” Jane raises her glass in a toast, and Darcy can’t help but clink her glass against it. 

The sound of a scuffle from Bucky and Sam’s direction pulls their attention over, at which point the two snap to attention, trying to look calm and collected and utterly failing at it. “What’s going on?” Darcy asks, eyes narrowing. 

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, pull the other one, Buckster.” 

“I swear.” Bucky gives her a reassuring grin, although Darcy thinks he looks more like he’s grimacing instead. Sam looks equally as uncomfortable, and Darcy immediately knows that those two fucking menaces are hiding something. 

“Did you toilet paper the car or something?” she blurts out.

“Nothing as dramatic as that,” Sam replies. 

“Steve would get all uptight about wasting toilet paper if we’d done that anyway,” Bucky grumbles.

“Then what’s with all the whispering?”

“If you must know, we’re having a laugh at Steve’s expense.”

“Oh. Well, by all means, please continue.” Darcy raises her glass in another toast. “I love my new husband dearly, but that doesn’t mean that his righteous tendencies can’t be taken down a few notches.”

“Cheers to that,” Bucky says with his own toast, and Sam nods in agreement. It’s probably one of the only things Darcy’s ever seen them agree on. “And his inability not to be heroic even when the moron is supposed to be laying low and keeping his head down.”

Darcy frowns, and trades a look with Jane, who shrugs, eyes wide and confused. “What did he just do?”

“Stopped a kid - who wasn’t Joey - from running into oncoming traffic.”

“Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing. I know I would,” Darcy points out. “And that’s not even motherhood talking, that’s just being a good human speaking.”

“Any of us would,” Sam agrees, “but Steve’s made a life’s work of turning himself into a giant, unmissable target. Stands to reason it will inevitably happen again, no matter how hard he tries to avoid it.”

Jane cocks her head, and tilts her drink in Sam’s direction. “Are you just saying that because you’re looking to give that shield up?” The smirk gracing her lips says she knows exactly what Sam’s answer is going to be before he even opens his mouth.

“Hell no. We get along great. She likes living with me now.”

“The serum didn’t fix dumbass, though.” Bucky shakes his head in an overly dramatic fashion, hanging it low so that his hair falls over his face. The glare that Sam shoots him in response to that is as skeptical as Bucky is dramatic, and Darcy can’t help but let loose a cackle.

Jane nods and takes a sip of her drink. “So basically, more balls than brains. He’s your perfect match, Taser Queen Lewis. Just wait until Joey grows up, too.”

“Thanks, Janey.”

The curtain barricading their private room from the main restaurant rustles again, and another head pokes through the gap, a wide, bright smile across her face. “I know we are terribly late,” Shuri says, flipping the curtain all the way back and making room for her brother to enter after her, “But clandestine missions call for extra security.”

Sam gets to his feet and holds his hand out to T'Challa in greeting. “You got held up at the UN, didn’t you?” 

“Exactly so. It’s nothing as dramatic as Shuri claims.”

“Yes, but my way is much more fun.” She walks over to where Darcy’s standing, her chair pushed back out of the way, and gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Congratulations; I’m so sorry we missed the ceremony!”

Darcy leans into the hug, embracing the other woman warmly. “It’s okay! It was a small, quick thing anyway.” She’s not sure what else to say; T'Challa and Shuri are far better friends with Steve and Bucky and, hell, she wants to have a ‘holy shit I am in the presence of royalty,’ sort of a moment. Then she reminds herself who she’s newly married to and has a kid with, and who she’s hung out with once upon a time. She can greet and welcome the Wakandans fine on her own. “Please, sit down, get comfortable. Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

“I could definitely go for some appetizers,” Shuri says, with an amount of glee that’s probably slightly inappropriate for snack foods. It gives Darcy a rush of affection, because truly, she’s a girl after her own heart. Shuri scoots around the table to where Bucky is and drops an arm around his shoulders. “And how’s the arm doing?” she asks, knocking a gentle fist against the rounded metal shoulder of Bucky’s prosthetic.

“No complaints,” he smiles.

“So, go back to who was being a dumbass,” T'Challa says. He pulls another chair over to the table that’s becoming more than a little crowded at this point and helps himself to one of the open bottles of wine on the table. It’s a surprisingly casual move for a king, Darcy thinks. 

“Who else?”

“Steve,” Sam, Bucky, and Jane all chorus.

“Hmm. Not exactly out of character for him.”

“You’re all mean,” Darcy fires back at the group, even though she knows full well that Steve doesn’t always see sense when it comes to the heroics. She won’t let them make fun of her husband though. At least not too much. A little ego deflation is okay.

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky leans forward, bracing both arms on the table and giving Darcy a hard stare. “Wanna make it interesting?”

Darcy mirrors his position. “Name your terms.”

“A simple bet. Everyone gets a buy in to the pot. The winner’s the one who predicts the action that gets Steve’s face on the news again for either noble or dumbass heroics.”

“And depending on how long this lasts, I’ll cover the interest yearly.” The grin on T'Challa’s face is affectionate and impish, and Darcy’s realizing more and more that Steve’s had a greater impact on more people’s lives than he even knows these days. The thought of which fills her with a sudden warmth, a reassurance that she’s made the right decision with who she’s invited into her life right now.

“That’s fair,” Darcy nods. “Let me stipulate this, though: it needs to be suitably superheroic. It can’t just be something like helping an old lady cross the street, or stopping a kid from skinning a knee - we all know Steve would do those things without any enhancements, so to speak. What ends up getting the attention - and it could be any news source with a degree of respectability, blogs and podcasts included, but definitely NOT Reddit - needs to be something that one, shows heroism beyond everyday goodness. Two, applies a certain strength that’s only usually found in enhanced people, Avengers, or super soldiers. Three, is something that will definitely result in us calling my beloved husband a dumbass for getting busted. Are these terms agreeable?”

“I can’t believe I’m going to ask this.” Sam rubs his forehead with one hand, thumb pressing against his temples like a sudden headache popped up. “But, how dumbass is dumbass? Because this is Steve we’re talking about.”

Darcy sips her drink slowly, trying to collect her thoughts. “I feel like this is something we’ll know when we see it. If it’s something has us clutching our heads and screaming at the TV, we’ll know.” She can’t lie to herself, she kind of hopes that never comes to pass. She knows full well that Steve would never do anything deliberately stupid or malicious, but overzealousness sometimes takes over. It’s how the walls of their old apartment in New Mexico ended up covered in Sharpie that one time and Steve and Joey looking as innocently guilty as they could as they tried to clean up the mess. Luckily the patch job held, and they didn’t lose their security deposit before they moved.

“I can collect everyone’s guesses and put them into a program.” Shuri grabs a napkin and a spare pen one of the waiters had left on the table and starts to scribble some ideas out. “We can create an algorithm that will scan public media sites for anything that seems related to the bet, and the bet only - no accidental privacy breaches here. If the program flags something it can send the evidence to all of us and, once we confirm it, boom. Payout time.”

Bucky nods, and gives Shuri a subtle fistbump of approval. “I’m okay with that. Who’s collecting the money?”

“Me.” Sam pulls his wallet out of his suit jacket and drops it onto the table. “I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, Barnes. How am I supposed to know if you end up putting that money to bad use?”

“You wound me, Wilson. Truly.”

“Go fuck yourself, Buckster.”

“Boys.” Jane glares around the table, eyes drilling right into everyone and making more than one person sit up straighter in the process. It’s more than a little amusing from Darcy’s perspective, because she kind of envies that power, especially when toddler tantrum time comes around. “Play nice. And don’t make fun of Steve too badly.”

“He’s tough.”

“And stubborn.”

“With a better sense of humor than you’d think. He’d be more amused than anything else if he finds out about this.”

“He’s also not stupid so let’s hash this out before he gets back,” Darcy interjects. “Fifty dollars per person sound good?”

A crisp fifty dollar bill flutters to the table top from somewhere behind Darcy, followed by an unexpected voice saying, “Fifty on Steve saving a child’s life. I’ll sort out the details later.”

Darcy sees Bucky and Sam sit up straight in their chairs, their faces a picture perfect example of the phrase ‘oh SHIT’. She spins in her seat to see a small, slender woman standing behind her chair, arms crossed over a light jacket, boots, lips quirked in a knowing smile, and a thick sheaf of wavy red hair cascading over her shoulders. “You should know better than to hide something from me, boys,” Natasha Romanoff says, her smile growing that much wider as Sam and Bucky squirm in their seats.

Natasha turns to Darcy, looking far more affectionate than she should for someone who she’s never met before. Because Darcy would undoubtedly remember meeting the Black Widow due to sheer awesomeness. What she did know was the fondness that Steve had mentioned her with when they’d talked about the past. He missed her, probably more than he’d wanted to admit, but didn’t want to jeopardize anything by reaching out to Nat, especially after Joey was born. Natasha was still well entrenched with the Avengers, and publicly so. Approaching her would be a risk for Steve and his family, and there’s no way he’d have done that. Darcy’s pretty certain, however, that Steve didn’t ever consider the possibility that Natasha would catch up with him.

“I just wanted to pass along my congratulations to you and Steve,” Natasha says, taking Darcy’s hands in hers. “It’s good to see him happy, and I’m glad he’s found that.”

“Um, thank you.” Darcy nods. She’s not sure what else she can say to that, because even looking casual and kind Natasha is beyond intimidating. Even more so than the King of Wakanda, and that’s saying something.

“And don’t worry,” Natasha continues with another squeeze of her hands, “your secret is safe with me, and I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that it stays that way.” She then saunters around the table, giving greetings to T'Challa, Jane, and Shuri before settling behind where Bucky and Sam are sitting, still looking like the dictionary definition of ‘shit we fucked up’ and claps her hands down firmly on their shoulders. “As for you two, we’re going to have to have a long, long talk later,” is all she says to them.

Darcy really has to bite back a laugh at the worried and nervous responses Sam and Bucky give her. “All right,” she breaks in, coughing lightly because otherwise the laughter really will come, “let’s set this thing up.”

The agreement is sealed and a group chat is created quickly, just before Natasha gives them all a nod and disappears into the shadows like she was never there. The timing is just about perfect (and Darcy knows Natasha is deliberate like that) because just as the first tester text is sent around the curtain rustles, leading to a mad scramble to put away phones, wallets, and anything else that could give the game away. The curtain pulls back and there’s Steve, looking a bit disheveled from Joey’s wandering hands. It’s a good look, Darcy thinks, full beard, rolled up sleeves, suspenders, and a tie that had been loosened just as dessert was being served. 

He pauses a couple of feet beyond the curtain, mouth pursed and forehead wrinkled. “What’s going on?” he asks, slowly.

“Plotting to take over the world.” Darcy nods in Jane’s direction. “She’s gonna steal Thor’s hammer and then we’re golden.”

Steve just shrugs, shaking his head in obvious resignation over the whole situation.

“Did Joey and my parents get packed off okay?” Darcy pushes to her feet and motions Steve into her chair, then proceeds to make herself comfortable in his lap, his arms going around her waist and pulling her close.

“Joey was sound asleep before the cab even showed up.” She can feel him nuzzle the back of her head, and can easily imagine the smile that spreads across his face. “They’ll call us if anything happens, but for the next week, we are free and going on our honeymoon.”

Sam gives them an arch look, one that Darcy knows is as dubious as can be. “Somewhere not in the glorified camper van, I hope?”

“Don’t knock the van,” Darcy and Jane chorus. “We had many good years sciencing in there before we repurposed it for the epic road trip of epicness,” Darcy finishes with a flourish of her drink that sloshes out and onto her hand a bit. “Besides, we’ve got to take advantage of it before Joey needs to go to school.” She licks the vodka off of her skin because she can, and feels Steve’s arms tighten around her.

“Puerto Rico,” Steve cuts in. “Flying down the day after next.”

T'Challa stands up, glass in hand and a smile on his face that’s echoed by everyone else in the room. “Here’s to happy journeys, both in vacations and in lives. Congratulations on your marriage, Steve and Darcy. May it be an interesting one.”

**********

Truer words were never spoken.


	4. a good look on you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come on, you don't really think I would have wrapped up this story without actually having Steve and Natasha talk things out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to having no internet for a few days here, you get two chapters for the price of one! By the end of tonight, this story should be completely posted. More notes at the very end of the story...
> 
> I know I'm super behind on answering my comments, so I just want to let everyone who's read and and left kudos and left comments know that you are all absolutely wonderful people and I'm so grateful for the love you've given this story.
> 
> On with the show...

_ Don't take offense _

_ Can I make amends? _

_ Rip it all to shreds and let it go _

  
  


“You know, those things aren’t supposed to be good for you.”

Bucky gives Steve a flat stare across the expanse of the sidewalk and takes another drag from his cigarette. “If everything else hasn’t killed me yet, I can have the indulgence.”

Steve side-eyes him back, but doesn’t say anything. He just shrugs and is sure to angle his howling son away from any blowing streams of smoke, even though Bucky is a good fifteen feet from them. “Come on, kiddo, what’s wrong?” he asks plaintively. He’s hopeful that the three year old can at least hear his words over the squalling, even if the meaning won’t sink in.

“I don’t wanna go!” Joey shouts, face tear stained and red in his fury.

“You love staying with grandma and grandpa,” Steve points out, running a hand down Joey’s back. It doesn’t seem to help, however, because Joey doubles down on the sobs, the volume increasing to the point where they’re starting to get stares from passersby. Some looks are wary; a kid screaming on the sidewalk at night trapped in the middle of a toddler tantrum is never a good sign, even if he’s being rocked around by his father to try and get him to calm down. Other looks are entirely sympathetic, because a toddler tantrum is never fun.

“NO! Don’t wanna go!” Joey howls again. He sniffs, hard, and buries his snotty face against Steve’s nice dress shirt. Steve pushes the sigh down; it wouldn’t be the first nice piece of clothing that’s been sacrificed to Joey’s bodily fluids. And, frankly, it’s nowhere near the worst thing that’s ever ended up on his clothes during this whole parenting adventure either, to be fair.

Still, he cocks his head in Bucky’s direction, calling him over. Bucky immediately pitches the cigarette into the street and comes to stand next to Steve, who keeps bouncing Joey gently to try and get him to calm down a little. “It’s only for a week,” Steve murmurs, pressing a kiss to the fine, light brown hair on Joey’s head. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Don’t care,” Joey grunts, rubbing his pout against Steve’s shoulder once more.

“He was fine five minutes ago,” Bucky whispers. “What happened?”

Steve rolls his eyes, hard. “Toddler mood swing. It happens. A lot. Hey, Joey.” Steve bounces him a few more times until the kid turns watery, red eyes his way. “You get to spend a week with grandma and grandpa spoiling the living daylights outta you. And your Uncle Bucky will be right around the corner too if you need him.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, keeping his voice low and soft so as not to startle the kid into crying even further. He reaches out with his flesh hand and carefully brushes some of Joey’s hair away from his face. “If you need me, just have your grandma call, and I’ll be there right away.”

“Right away?” Joey parrots.

“Right away,” Bucky whispers, gently bopping Joey’s nose with a single finger.

Joey sniffles again and nods, shoving some fingers in his mouth because he’s supposed to be too old for a pacifier by now. “‘Kay.”

“C’mere.” With quick moves that speak of years of experience, something that’s always surprised and amused Steve, Bucky pulls Joey to him, letting him curl up in the crook of his metal arm and get comfortable against his shoulder.

Steve sighs, running a hand over his neatly trimmed beard. “It’s going to be a long week.” He steps back, tugging Bucky and Joey out of the way of the swinging restaurant door, and gives a polite nod to the family heading out onto the sidewalk. “He’s been really clingy lately.”

Joey seems to have calmed down in Bucky’s arms, much to Steve’s relief. Hopefully he’ll be well on his way to sleeping before his grandparents take him home, but Steve knows his son has inherited stubbornness from both his parents. He won’t breathe easy until he gets the text later that night saying that they’re home safe and Joey’s sound asleep. Then they can relax and feel okay about leaving on their honeymoon for a week.

“Isn’t he a little old for the terrible twos?” Bucky jokes.

“That term is entirely a lie,” Steve fires back. “They last a hell of a lot longer than that.”

“Looking forward to a week of sleeping then?”

“You have no idea how much.”

Out of the corner of Steve’s eye there’s a small commotion happening, his brain breaking the images down into smaller, fragmented bits. There’s a rideshare cab that’s heading towards the curb, a little too quickly to be safe. A little girl, a few years older than Joey is, wandering out of sight of her parents and into the street, distracted by the shiny lettering on the valet’s stand. The cab, unaware of the little girl in the street and heading uncomfortably closely and quickly right into the little girl’s path…

“Shit,” Steve hisses under his breath. Before anyone else can even react, he’s leapt for the curb, more quickly than most humans could, hopping over it easily and reaching the girl only moments before the cab hits the same spot. Muscle memory kicks in and he’s got the little girl in his arms just as he spins them both out of the way of the vehicle. She screams, right in his ear, but it joins the sound of the screaming of her parents and gets lost in the background as Steve focuses on this sudden, vital mission.

The whole thing is over in a matter of seconds. Before anyone can react beyond the screams, Steve’s got the girl back on the sidewalk, crouching down to check if she has any physical injuries. A couple of seconds later the girl’s mother is there, shoving Steve out of the way so she can drop to her knees and take her daughter into her arms. Steve stands and trades a nod with the girl’s other mother, an unspoken thank you from one parent to another. 

A few steps away Joey’s trying to fling himself out of Bucky’s arms, howling again in his attempt to reach his father. He’s certain that the sudden burst of speed shocked the kid, which had to have startled him into the sobbing tantrum screams once more. With a resigned sigh, Steve takes Joey back, because the toddler tantrums just don’t seem to end tonight. He’d been so good during the wedding, there was probably only so much his little brain could take before the terrible threes descended once more. The way Joey’s arms wrap around his neck, though...he wouldn’t trade that for anything in the entire world.

“I think you scared him a bit.” Bucky shoves his hands in his trouser pockets and gives Steve an impish grin that seems like it came straight from a 1930s Brooklyn back alley. “I know that feeling too well. So well. To the point where things haven’t changed for --”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Steve cuts him off. Joey’s now happily chattering in his ear at top volume about the show he and his grandpa had watched earlier about people saving people (Steve has the strong suspicion capes were involved which, if his father in law only knew the irony…), little hands tugging uncomfortably at his beard hairs. “And we were so close to going to sleep,” Steve says with a sigh, nuzzling Joey’s shoulder.

“I don’t wanna sleep.” The expression on Joey’s face is petulant and mulish enough that Steve has to fight back the instinctive wince, because he knows that look all too well from the mirror, and knows just how hard it is to get it to change its mind. 

Bucky just laughs and shakes his head. “Like father, like son.”

Steve makes a little head jerking motion towards the restaurant, pointedly ignoring the comment that really was only stating the obvious. “Can you see if Grandma and Grandpa need a hand getting out to the cab? I don’t want to take the babble monster back inside and disturb the patrons if I have a choice.”

“Of course.” Bucky leans over, tousles Joey’s hair once more, and drops a kiss on his forehead. “You and me are gonna hang out this week, munchkin,” he promises. And, to Steve, “I’ll see you inside, bud.”

“Bye unca Bucky,” Joey says with a wave of his hand. The small moment puts a grin on Steve’s face, and he hikes Joey further up his hip. Joey’s surprisingly sturdy for a three year old, and Steve’s certain if he wasn’t enhanced he’d be struggling a lot more to hold him. And yes, Steve recognizes full well that Joey will need to stand on his own two feet at some point in his life, but right now he’s still the youngest sort of kid, and Steve would like to hold him for as long as he can. 

“Parenthood’s a good look on you,” a voice says from somewhere behind him. Steve whips around, because he hasn’t heard that voice in years and, Jesus, what a blast from the past.

Half hidden in the shadows of the building, Natasha emerges, that familiar, enigmatic smile Steve hasn’t seen in over six years gracing her lips. “It’s good to see you, Steve.”

“You too, Natasha.” Steve clutches Joey that much closer; he can tell he’s fascinated and not quite sure what to make of the newcomer. It’s not exactly an unexpected sensation the first time someone meets the Black Widow. “You coming to crash the party and tell me I’m marrying a spy, Director?”

“Not hardly. Just offering my congratulations.” Natasha crosses her arms over her chest, stepping into the glow of the lamplight so Steve can see her fully. “Besides, you know I’ve done my background checks. Darcy’s perfect for you.”

“I’m hesitant to ask how long ago you found out, and how long you’ve been gathering your info on us.”

“Not as long as you’d think.” She shakes her head, the look on her face full of pride, of all things. “You and Bucky did a surprisingly good job of covering your tracks in the aftermath of your supposed ‘death’ over the last few years. But, then a little birdie told me a long awaited celebration was happening, and I went from there.”

He knows his eyebrows are arching into his hairline now. “A little birdie told you, huh?”

The smirk grows on Nat’s face. “Well, maybe the birdie didn’t know I was listening. And maybe the little birdie shouldn’t take such sensitive calls right in his office. Security’s good, but not as good as I am.”

Steve can’t help but smile and shake his head at that. “Just don’t hurt Sam too much when you let him know you know.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” She shifts on her heels, waving a few fingers at Joey who keeps staring at her in deep curiosity. “Seriously, though. How are you doing? How’s your second chance at life treating you?”

He pauses, just a moment to hoist Joey up from where he’s beginning to slide down his hip, and to also take stock. Then again, he really doesn’t need much time for that part. “It’s everything,” Steve says, with a shrug that barely encompasses the life he’s embraced.

The look on Natasha’s face is soft, but real, and there’s something proud shining from behind her eyes. “Good. You deserve it. And don’t ever let anyone else tell you otherwise, even if you used a bit of an extreme way to do it.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was planning then,” Steve admits, frowning. “You were...are one of my best friends and I shouldn’t have treated you like that.” The words spill out of his mouth before he can stop them. Because if there was one regret that he had about the whole situation it’s that Natasha was kept in the dark about the whole thing. Of all people, she understood the desire to get away from a life that felt engineered by others and leaving him little choice in anything better than almost anyone else. He only hopes that his apology will be enough. 

Natasha shakes her head, replying, “Water under the bridge,” and Steve can feel the relief rush through him, like a cool wash of water in his veins. “I get it. Everyone needs to take charge of their life in the way that works for them. Clint compartmentalizes, keeps his family away from Avengers business, and these days he’s on call less and less anyway. Me? I try to put my ledger in the black. You are allowed and entitled to go after the life you always wanted.” She shrugs again, letting Joey grab at her hand and poke at the rich burgundy lacquer coating her fingernails. “And you’re not obligated to take any of us with you either.”

“That was a mistake on my part.” He reaches out and grasps Nat’s shoulder, warmly. “I’ve really, really missed you.” But, neither one of them is great with those strong emotions, so instead of either of them getting weepy and mushy Steve pushes on to the next topic. “So, how does it feel being the new Director of the Avengers Initiative?”

The look Natasha gives him clearly says he’s full of shit, but with enough affection that he knows she appreciates the topic change also. “Well, now that you and Stark have both decided to retire and go the way of happy families, my job’s been a lot more peaceful than it’s ever been before.”

“Still giving Ross hell?”

“You know it. Natasha’s lips twist, and Steve isn’t sure he’s going to like what she says next. “But, you really ought to watch your language around such impressionable ears. They’ll pick up all the bad language words.”

“You know what, Romanoff?”

They dissolve into giggles, like they’re kids Joey’s age instead of adults who absolutely should know better. “Hey, don’t be a stranger,” Steve says as the laughter dies down. “I know it’s hard to get away, especially with everyone’s eyes on the new team, but you are always welcome, even if it’s just to say hi.”

“I’ll keep my options open, because the last thing I want is for this little guy,” she pauses to give Joey a smile and a belly tickle that sets him giggling and slouching back against his dad, “to get into any trouble because of something we did.”

Because as calm as life currently is, the world is still a dangerous place, and sometimes it feels like they’ve only kept the changes temporarily at bay. And the child of a supposedly dead super soldier with god knows what floating around in his little body (not to mention those abilities of Darcy’s that they try to keep as quiet as possible while they try to find out the exact nature and extent of what she can do) would be a prime target for Thunderbolt Ross, who still had enough political clout to cause trouble for anyone with even the smallest amount of extraordinary powers, even as retirement age loomed closer and closer.

Steve never really liked to wish death on anyone, but the world would be better off without some people, he acknowledged. 

“What’s his name?” Natasha asks, pulling Steve out of his slightly morbid thoughts. 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Steve smiles. He hefts Joey in his arms so that he’s face to face with Natasha, staring at her like she’s some sort of fascinating mystery.

He knows the feeling.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Natasha says to Joey, in a sweet voice that’s entirely unfamiliar to Steve, but there’s something in it that grabs the kid’s attention. “What’s your name?”

It takes him a few seconds to respond, but eventually he mumbles, “Joey.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Joey.” Much to Steve and Natasha’s amusement, Joey reaches out carefully and pats Natasha’s hair, running his fingers through the rich red strands. 

“‘S pretty,” he says. Natasha gives him an indulgent smile, letting Joey take his time and watch how her hair glistened in the golden lamplight.

“Yeah, it is,” Steve agrees. “You want to come in for a drink?” he asks. “Give Sam and Buck some hell for keeping this from you?”

Natasha shakes her head, looking genuinely upset not to be able to. “Not tonight, not without bringing some unnecessary attention to you. But with some planning, in some place less public?”

“We’re thinking of buying a house soon, of all things,” Steve replies, knowing Natasha can read between the lines. “Stop on by and you can help get the place set up right.”

“You know it.” She stretches upward to kiss his cheek and ruffle Joey’s hair, making the kid giggle once more. “Don’t be a stranger, Steve. You’ve got more people than you think in your corner.”

The door to the restaurant opens again, dragging Steve’s attention away from Natasha for just a moment. From the interior, white light and his in-laws spill out, arms wrapped around each others’ waists for support and smiling at something only the two of them know about. When he looks back, Natasha’s vanished, slipping back into the shadows like she’d never been there. It’s not surprising, not really. It’s easier for her to disappear than say a polite goodbye, and Steve can’t blame her for it one bit. Still, Joey gives a small wave off into the night, like he can see the trail she left behind and is wishing it good luck.

Hell, maybe he can see something that Steve can’t. The wonders of childhood.

Steve hugs Joey close once more and then turns back to his in-laws, taking yet another step into that bright, new future he’s claimed for himself.


	5. the small hours of the morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding night.

_ ‘Buried my heart in a willow tree _

_ You came along, gave it back to me _

_ Now we’re creatures of the night _

_ Set each other free _

_ Run away with me’  _

The clock chimes two...or rather, Steve’s phone flashes 2 a.m. at him from the bathroom counter.

His wedding day is over and now, technically, it’s his wedding night. If he’s being honest with himself, Steve will admit that he’d never thought this would actually be possible. Maybe for some brief flashing moment moment he’d believed it could, back when he and Peggy were a thing and he thought there was a good chance he’d make it out of the war alive. But between wars and superheroics...nah. He hadn’t been holding his breath.

And yet…

Somehow, he got really, really lucky.

He splashes water on his face, trying to wake himself up at least a little bit. The water drips into his beard as he hangs his head, and it’s hard to resist the urge to close his eyes for just a few minutes. Steve allows himself to be tired these days. It’s part of learning how to be human once more. That it’s okay to do all of those things that harder people have told him make men weak. It was bullshit then and it’s bullshit now, but now, at least, he allows himself to embrace the humanity. A swipe of the towel across his face gets rid of the worst of the water, and it’s like being centered in his skin once more.

The sight that greets him in the hotel room manages to melt his heart that much more. Darcy’s curled on her side on the bed, turned in the direction of the bathroom door, like she’d been waiting up for him before she couldn’t fight the sleep anymore. She’s got her phone unlocked, face up in the palm of her hand, a picture someone had taken of the two of them and Joey in the garden earlier that day up on the screen.

His wife.

A warm little bubble wells up inside of him at the thought of the words.

Steve crawls onto the bed next to Darcy and pries the phone out of her hand, placing it on the nightstand. Carefully, he strokes some hair out of her face, tucking it back behind her ear with the lightest touch. She stirs briefly, lashes fluttering as she shifts in the sheets. The tie of her wrap dress is coming undone, revealing the royal blue lace of her bra, and what looks to be some ink splashed over the skin of her chest, near where her heart is. Steve peels back the edge of the dress to reveal the runes, the eyeliner ink looking a little faded and feathery this late in the day. He bends down, trying to get a closer look as he traces the spindly lines with a fingertip.

“Mmm, like what you see?” Darcy hums.

“I’m intrigued by them.” Steve leans down, presses a warm, sucking kiss to her skin right over the marks. “And yes, I always like what I see with you.”

“Same.” Darcy wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him up for a long, leisurely kiss. They’ve got all the time in the world tonight, especially when they know they won’t be disturbed (‘call it what it is,’ Steve’s internal voice chimes in. ‘Cockblocked. No getting cockblocked by a toddler tonight.’).

Steve draws away slowly, trailing his lips down her neck just because he can. “What do they mean?” he asks. He knows that Darcy has used runes and other Asgardian techniques to help calm down her twitchiness, as she liked to call it. Steve will admit to picking up the books more than once to try and understand this thing that Darcy gravitates to so much, but he’ll also admit it’s a little over his head. They make her twitchiness settle down a lot, however, so he’ll always be grateful to Thor for that.

Maybe someday he’ll get a chance to tell him as much.

Darcy hums again and props herself up in the pillows a bit, and Steve can easily see the affection and impishness in her face. “A little bit of a lucky charm, I think, even though I’m pretty damn sure there aren’t any leprechauns around here.”

“I think Joey ate the last of them this morning. Seriously though, they have to mean something good if you wanted to wear them today.”

She gives him a look over the rim of her glasses, eyes wide and cloudy blue in the low light of the hotel room. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Sit up.” He does so, and Darcy follows, getting herself comfortable and straddling his lap so that they’re practically chest to chest. Next, she unbuttons his shirt, sliding it off of his arms and letting it fall to the bed. A few more tugs and she’s got his undershirt off as well, throwing it over the side and landing somewhere on the floor that neither one of them really cares about now. Darcy smooths her hands down his chest, letting them fall still somewhere on Steve’s abdomen. “So, the runes. Keep in mind I got most of this info from my best interpretation of Frigga’s books, so it probably won’t be perfect.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve says, shaking his head. “I want to learn this through your eyes.”

Darcy pecks a kiss against his lips, quick and sweet. “You’re such a sap.”

“It’s my wedding day; I’m allowed to be a sap.”

“Fair point. Anyway, the runes. They’re an alphabet, the Asgardians use them for general writing, but they’re also symbols that have meanings attached to them. Sometimes they make charms and sigils out of the runes, to bring those symbolic meanings with them.”

“Like wearing a specific saint’s medallion because they’re the patron saint of lost causes.”

“Exactly.” She taps a finger against his chest, in a spot that mirrors where she drew her own runes, and Steve can feel his breath catch, just a little. “So, I chose the runes that I felt were good things for us to take into a marriage.”

Darcy takes her finger and begins to trace the runes on Steve’s skin, the small move making him shiver with the small tingles of energy that are suddenly running through him. He looks down, and there are two bright, delicate, silver lines developing on his skin in the shape of a sideways V. “That’s something new,” he whispers, afraid to shatter the solemn mood that’s taken over.

“Yup,” Darcy whispers back, glancing up at him. “I’m trying something new. You’ll let me know if it starts to feel wrong, yeah?” Steve nods. “Okay. This rune is called  _ kenaz _ . It stands for passion, knowledge...a light in the darkness.” She taps her finger against the glowing rune, and there’s another flash of energy that arcs between them. “Transformation.” It’s entrancing, a slow seduction using magic and affection that’s unlike anything they’ve ever done before.

Slightly below that, and to the right, Darcy draws the next design, an hourglass that looks like it’s been tipped on its side as she explains. “This one is  _ dagaz _ , meaning new beginnings, unity...awakening and hope.” Her free hand wraps around his bicep, like she’s trying to center herself in place. Steve’s not sure if it’ll make a difference, but he runs his hands up her thighs, settling them on her hips in the hopes that it will help.

Below the first rune she starts to draw the third one, and Steve can see the diamond shaped layout beginning to really resemble the one on Darcy’s skin. He fights back the shudder, feeling the energy flowing back and forth between the two of them, singing a strange sort of a song that feels right and true, as weird as it is. This next rune takes the shape of a simple X. “ _ Gebo _ ,” she says. “Sacred marriage, harmony, equilibrium. Long story short, it means gift.”

The final point of the grid is a smaller diamond, an equal sided square standing on its point. “This is  _ inguz _ . Stands for growth and energy, the seed of an idea...family. Which we already are. It’s kind of just stating the obvious,” she smiles. She reaches up to weave her free hand into his hair, and tilts his head back to steal a kiss from his mouth before resuming her work.

In the center of the diamond grid, Darcy draws the final symbol, two parallel lines connected by a shallow V shape. “Now this last one, this one’s just for us.” She traces over the silver lines again, setting it aglow against the paleness of Steve’s skin. The runes on her own skin begin to flare up with the same silver energy, subsuming the eyeliner ink and sparking merrily. “They call this one the marriage rune,  _ ehwaz _ . Among many other good features, it symbolizes cooperation, loyalty, compromise, and respect. Partnership.” She moves to cup his jaw, pulling him in for a deeper kiss that feeds the energy back and forth between the two and linking them together in another, sacred way.

“Partners,” Steve mumbles against her mouth. “I like that.” He slides his hands up Darcy’s sides and tips her back into the pillows, following the inexorable pull toward her and feeling filled with an unforgettable, delightful sort of joy that is just for them.

**********

It’s not for a good ten years or so that the bet actually comes to fruition. And when it happens, well...it’s not in the way anyone expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Natasha. She’s pretty new here, right? I know I said in the past that Natasha didn’t know about what Steve had done with the whole faked death thing and where he was staying, but after End Game...regardless of how I felt about that movie (which, if you want to know, hit me up on Tumblr and I’ll be happy to talk about it with you there), one thing it drove home to me was just how much I had underestimated the depths of Steve and Nat’s friendship. And that, after what I saw, there’s no way that Nat wouldn’t have her suspicions and then follow up on them to ensure that Steve was doing all right. And so, I decided to add her into this fic a bit retroactively, to show that regardless of what I’ve said in the past, she is one of the small group of people out there who knows the truth about what’s happened to Steve Rogers in this branch of the Marvel Universe. I may go back to edit up some of the other stories at some point to reflect this, specifically Gunpowder and Rose, but I know myself. It may not happen, because I’m that sort of a writer. So I’m letting this story change my verse instead, and give it something that pleases me inordinately, because I absolutely love the friendship between Nat and Steve, and I really want to do justice to that in the ways that I can.
> 
> On a more End Game spoilery note, I like to envision that this story takes place in the 2014 branch of the Marvel timeline, meaning that Thanos has exited Stage Left (pursued by a bear) in this timeline and will never, ever be a threat. This whole universe is designed to be a more lighthearted story about families, both the ones by blood and the ones we create, and so Thanos has no place here.
> 
> Special thanks to DizzyRedhead for her help with the runes in this chapter. She's absolutely invaluable and I love her for it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading - let me know what you think down in the comments!


End file.
